


Blurring and stirring - the truth and the lies.

by merihn



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Possession, evil!Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-06-05
Updated: 2007-06-05
Packaged: 2017-11-07 06:21:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/427898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merihn/pseuds/merihn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Demons want more than just a simple kill.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blurring and stirring - the truth and the lies.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [**the_abinator**](http://the-abinator.livejournal.com/) who celebrates her birthday today!  
>  Beta’d by the GORGEOUS and amazing [**ellipsisblack**](http://ellipsisblack.livejournal.com/), who is finally back!

“You knew it right from the start, didn’t you?” Sam forces Dean down harder, pushes his face against the hard wood floor until splinters catch on his skin and dig in. “You knew I wasn’t him, but you still welcomed me back, touched me, wanted me.”

Dean can hear him – it – smirking and wants to struggle, wants to twist around and tear that ugly black cloud from his brother. But he can’t move. That thing has made Sam even stronger than he was and Dean can’t even fucking move under the weight of that giant hand on his neck, can’t wriggle out from between those vice-like thighs around his hips, has no leverage with his hands pinned to his back. Sam thrusts forward, his cock hard against Dean’s ass through their jeans and the splinters in his face dig in deeper, find bone.

“Fuck you.” Dean manages despite the crushing grip on his neck. The demon just chuckles and bends down, licks his ear. Dean shudders but still feels a spike of arousal at Sam’s touch and hates himself; this isn’t Sam.

“Oh no, Dean, fuck _you_.” Its voice sends shivers down Dean’s spine and he starts to struggle in earnest as that hand leaves his neck and slides around to open his jeans, pulling them roughly down his thighs. His shoulders throb painfully as the demon in Sam’s body clenches his fingers tighter around Dean’s wrists, holding them to his back as it exposes his ass. “You have such a sweet ass, Dean,” the thing in Sam’s body coos, stroking a palm over his naked flesh. And he can feel the calluses on Sam’s fingers, the familiar pressure of his hand and for a moment he forgets that it isn’t Sam and pushes back.

The demon chuckles. “That’s right, Dean, you want your little brother to fuck you, don’t you? Right here, on the floor.” Sam’s fingers slide down the crease of Dean’s ass and he clenches, flinches away because now he can’t stop reminding himself that it isn’t Sam. He gets another chuckle for his trouble, then with no warning it presses a long, thick finger straight into him, dry. Dean bites on his lip and grunts, feeling tears prick his eyes as he tries to get away from the awful burning stretch. He can’t help clenching around that finger and it burns through him.

He hates that he feels helpless, that he can’t get out of this like he usually would, with clever words or a paperclip. His whole body is coiled tight with anger and he knows it’s making it worse than it would be but he can’t let it go, he can’t be anything but furious as the demon uses him and Sam.

The demon never relents, it stretches him open too quickly, and for a moment it gets easier but then the burn is worse, the friction is more than anything he’s ever experienced. Dean knows now that he’s bleeding and all he can feel is pain, the sharp stab of long fingers inside him, splinters in his cheek, the burn of pulled muscles in his shoulders.

He wants to struggle, to do anything to get away but he’s pinned and he knows it’s only going to get worse when the demon pulls two fingers out of him and doesn’t immediately press three in. He can feel it behind him, still holding his hands against his back and now it presses in between his legs and Dean squeezes his eyes shut and tries to relax as much as he can but he knows this is going to hurt.

He knows he yells out something as Sam’s cock breaches him, stretches him too far, too fast and thrusts hard inside him, but now his whole world is centred on the shattering pain. He tries to get away; he struggles, but is completely pinned by Sam’s cock impaling him, Sam’s hands holding him down and all he wants to do is escape. He wants to go back to that afternoon when they were lying in that dingy hotel room, kissing and touching so softly and he spread Sam out on the bed and blew him until Sam was babbling and coming, calling Dean’s name.

But even that is taken from him as the demon grunts, “Dean,” in Sam’s voice, holds his hip in a vice-like grip and thrusts in hard before coming in a painful hot flood inside him. Dean slumps down as the demon pulls out and lets him go, limp as a rag doll, used and bleeding. He can feel it trickling out of him, come and blood mixed together, proof of this violence.

Then behind him he hears that unearthly scream and curls himself in tight. He flinches away as Sam says his name in a bewildered voice, reaches out to touch him. His stomach clenches and heaves as Sam pulls him up and into his arms and he doesn’t even have the energy to push away. But he knows Sam can feel it.

They both know.


End file.
